Chapter 12 – Slipping into Place

Dreams are strange things. One moment they are tangible and lucid, like memories of something that just transpired. In them, the simplest sensations, taste, smell, touch are all tangible, almost visceral. But in a heartbeat (or a ringing alarm bell) they can change, slowly fading away until there is nothing more than the faintest impression of what was…a false memory of actions taken or resolutions found. I read an article once that claimed dreams were the subconscious's way of dealing with traumatic events or other stressful situations. Dreams put an individual in a situation that mirrors some event of great angst or frustration, and enables them to act out different situations, ultimately allowing for resolution and, hopefully, relief.

Maybe that is why, while my body burned, my dream repeated over and over again, an infinite loop that I was unable to escape. Unlike normal REM state dreams, these visions were crystal clear, every little detail registering. I recalled everything, the inflections, the turns of words Aro used when he chased me... You will be queen, and through you I will control it all. He was trying to scare me, but he was wooing me too, lodging subtle little jabs to undermine anything I might have learned from the Cullens. He was also herding me, trying to drive me to the place he wanted me to be.

In these versions of my dream, Edward wasn't as quick to save me. I ran, bumbling through the dark, desperate to escape Aro's empty promises and thinly veiled threats. My lungs ached as I gasped for air, my heart slamming against my chest so hard it felt my ribs would burst wide open. When Edward did find me, his embrace was not protective, but more reverential. He held me like I was china or spun glass, something that was precious and worth fighting for.

While my body burned, pain searing through me, my brain continued to process through its infinite loop, always stopping short of resolution. Edward would find me, tell me I would be safe, and then all sound would fall away, his face fading slowly, like a ghost or a vapor. I would be alone in the dark, locked in silence for an indeterminate amount of time; the only thing keeping me company was the never-ending pain; my skin blistering from the inside out. I was locked in a silent hell with no way to resolve it.

At some point, my dreams morphed, and I became my music box ballerina. The Overture from Swan Lake hummed around me, soft violins and cellos weaving their plaintive tune. My spins were controlled, methodical, the firm hand at my waist balancing me but never constraining me. I felt like I could fly, so graceful, so elegant.

"You are the most beautiful thing in the world," the man said as he spotted me gently through each turn. In my earlier dreams it had been Edward, but now it was my father keeping me balanced. Not the Charlie Swan that I'd come to know, who brought me pizza with extra green pepper and sausage, no, he was younger, more carefree. The gray in his side burns had not advanced yet, and his eyes were unlined. This was the man Renee had left, the man who had loved and worshipped me, who had promised me the world. "You are my baby girl. You can do whatever it is you set your mind to. I believe in you, Bella."

Charlie slowly began to fade away, replaced by faceless voices, full of meaningless words and platitudes. They promised me things, swore to follow, swore to believe, but they were all hollow commitments of those looking to benefit from my good graces. Everything was empty; there was nothing, just an intense, burning pain that tore me up from the inside, finally shutting out everything but agony.

I don't know how long I burned, but somewhere along the way the pain began to crush me. It felt like Emmett's giant boulder had been dropped on my chest, the rock pinning me to the ground, my vital organs slowly shutting down under the strain.

"Bella," a voice broke through my haze, familiar but unnamed. "Come back to me. I'm so sorry. Please, don't leave me. I need you here. I want you here; everything else doesn't matter."

The voice would fade, in and out. Sometimes it was a man, and I thought it might be my father or Edward. Other times it was feminine and indistinguishable. I knew it wasn't my mother, in fact it never occurred to me to call out to her – Renee couldn't come to this place – it would never be safe for her. That's why she fled Forks with me. Forks had never been safe for either of us.

I floated like a piece of burning debris, for minutes, hours, days, as the world spun on around me. At some indeterminate point the pain started to subside, although I didn't realize it was receding until it was almost over. My limbs were heavy, reminding me of the way my foot might feel when it fell asleep. Tiny pinpricks of fire seared my hands and feet, moving up from my extremities through my limbs, higher and higher, until they reached my torso, and ultimately my heart.

For one, absolute moment of utter stillness, everything ceased to exist. There was no sound, no light, no feeling. I floated in blackness, blending into the oblivion around me. It was warm and quiet. It was peace.

Then, just as quickly as it had descended on me, the stillness broke in a cacophony of sound. Creaks and chirps, punctuated with the scrabble of paws on rough wood, filled the space around me, and brilliant fractals of light exploded behind my eyes. My body lurched to life, and I sat up, gasping in a deep breath, which caused me to choke and cough. The action wasn't painful, but rather uncomfortable, like breathing in the hot air from a car that had sat out in the desert sun all day.

"Hey, shhh, slow down. It's going to be okay," someone reassured me, rubbing my back gently. "The first few minutes are disorienting, just take it easy and slow down. Everything is going to be just fine."

The room was so bright that I couldn't get my bearings. I brought my hand up to block my eyes, closing out the brilliant yellow light.

"Alice, honey, can you pull the curtains closed? This side of the house can be a bit too much in the afternoon."

A grating screech of metal loops against a rod preceded the fading of light, and I slowly dropped my hand, relieved to be free of, what I realized belatedly, was sunshine. A slight form sat on the edge of my bed, light brown hair pulled back in a low elegant knot at the base of
her neck.

"Shhh," she soothed me, gently stroking my forehead now. "Just lay back and relax. It's all going to be okay. Your body just needs to get accustomed to things. Close your eyes, and try to focus on something, an image or a thought, just something simple. It will help you find some control as you adjust."

"Who are you?" I asked, confused and disoriented.

"I'm Esme, sweetheart, Carlisle's wife."

Esme, the woman Carlisle loved to distraction. She was the one who'd broken up Emmett and Edward that day in the garden, and she was the one who'd been here with me. It was her voice from my dreams. She was filling the role that my mother should have played, if only she could.

I followed her instructions, lying back on the bed and closing my eyes. Her fingers were soft and warm against my forehead, her touch meant to relax and reassure me as I came to terms with the scents and sounds that rang too loud or hit too hard. It reminded me of the way Renee used to trace my features to help me fall asleep, her touch whisper soft against my skin. She would lie next to me in bed and sing silly pop songs as I tried to find my way through the cobwebbed maze of stucco indentations on the ceiling. I must have reacted, for Esme hummed, a light, contented murmur that sent ripples through the room. I could feel the gentle wash of the sound as it floated across my skin like the current of a summer stream.

But, when the first ripples of air touched my skin, I bolted upright, gasping in shock. The breath that I sucked into my lungs itched and choked as strange little particles burning me up from the inside. "Where am I?" I demanded, my throat dry and aching. It felt like the time in sixth grade when I'd come down with a horrible case of strep throat. Renee had fed me ice chips and ice cream, anything to diminish the fire that left angry red welts in my mouth.

"You're okay, sweetheart," Esme said, pushing a strand of hair over my shoulder. "You just needed some rest."

She placed her hands on my shoulders, gently pushing back on the bed. The cotton rustled around me, sending little puffs of a manufactured floral scent into the air. "Where is my dad?"
I pled, my eyes darting around the room, desperate for anything familiar. It was full of antique furniture, the soft yellow walls soothing and warm. This was not a room in my house, nor was
I at my father's, for this space was much too large to fit in his small little cottage. This was somewhere completely new.

I closed my eyes, breathing deeply again. As my lungs filled with air, I could smell furniture polish, orange, not lemon like I'd used to clean the phonograph and to fight off Aro. It reminded me of spring in Phoenix, when the trees were all in bloom. There was an orange grove not too far from our apartment, and Renee and I would climb over the wall and run through the trees, laughing as the white petals cascaded down on us. She called it our desert snow, the perfect way to enjoy the beauty of white coating the ground without having to freeze while waiting for a bus.

The memory twisted in my chest…so many little details I'd never had the clarity to understand. How many times had she slipped? If I'd been paying attention, could I have pieced all the little clues together years before? Would it have even made a difference? Memory after memory assaulted me, twisting me up and turning me around. I didn't want to feel it anymore, all the lies and the betrayal, made more bitter because they were for noble causes.

"I hear someone one is awake."

I opened my eyes. Carlisle stood in the doorway, smiling down at me with the type of smile I would expect from Charlie. It was warm and paternal, hitting straight at my heart. He was happy I was here. He wanted me here. It radiated off of him in waves, and bathed me in warmth, helping to soothe the confusion and anger. Just behind him in the doorway stood Jasper, hands clasped behind his back like a soldier told to stand 'at ease.'

"Are those real?" I asked him, "are you pushing those at me?"

"It's what he feels, Bella. I can't fake it, just amplify." He glanced from Carlisle to Esme. "Just wait till I let her loose on you."

Esme's arm jerked up quickly, flicking her hand at Jasper in a backhanded gesture. "Go be useful…make sure your brothers aren't killing each other." She cocked her head to the side, as if listening for something. "Or if they are going to have at it again, please make sure they don't break any more of my furniture. I loved that chair."

Jasper ducked his head, a quick bob indicating he'd heard her, and winked at me. "See you later, alligator. Welcome to the family."

Carlisle stepped into my line of sight, obstructing the door and the spot Jasper had occupied. Placing his fingers gently under my chin, he tilted my face left and right as he stared intently into my eyes. "How do you feel?"

"Groggy, and sore." My hand rose instinctively to my throat, trying to soothe the fire that raged inside. "It reminds me of when I had strep."

He laughed, his eyes sparkling in appreciation. "I never quite thought to describe it that way, but it does make sense. Your throat burns because you are thirsty. I have something to tide you over, but you are going to need to hunt soon. Are you ready for that?"

I scrubbed my hand across my face, pushing my hair back from my eyes. It was knotted and dirty from unknown days spent tossing and turning. "How long was I…" I didn't know what to call it. Comatose? Out? Half-dead versus all dead? A lifetime of English comedy gave me great fodder, but none of it seemed appropriate when talking about my life.

"Alice left you and Edward on the beach late in the evening on Friday, September seventeenth. It's Tuesday, September twenty-first now. Don't worry," Carlisle's hand shot out, catching my shoulder as I struggled to swing my legs over the side of the bed. "Charlie knows where you are, and that you're safe. You can call him in a little bit."

"Why can't I see him?" I demanded, my eyes beginning to itch. It was the same sort of ache that throbbed in my throat, a dry, slow cloying burn that wouldn't go away.

"Bella, you know why," Carlisle said softly, his hand still pressed securely against my shoulder. "It's not safe. At least not right now."

My hands flew back up to my face, the heels of my palms digging into my eyes in an effort to rub away the fire that consumed me from the inside. "No," I gasped, my words choked. "I just found him. I need him."

"You can talk to him in a little bit, sweetheart," Esme promised, her hand wrapping around my wrist to pry my hands away from my eyes. "I need you to drink something first. Get your wits about you. Then we'll take you out to hunt. Real sustenance will help you think more clearly. Once that's done, you can call him."

I dropped my hands to my side, and allowed my eyes to close as I listened to Esme pad stealthily across the room. Somewhere, at the other end of the house, plastic bags rustled and a microwave beeped. The sounds were louder than they should have been, but I didn't have the energy to wonder why – I was too focused on the here and now.

Slowly, I flexed each finger, then my arms and legs, taking inventory of the way my body reacted to motion. After three days prone, it should have been difficult, even awkward, but my body was completely under my command. The giant bed creaked as I swung my legs over the side, my toes coming to rest at the edge of a large stack of mattresses and blankets. I was a good four inches off the ground, and I could feel the subtle heat rolling off the hardwood below me, the orange zing of furniture polish stronger now that I was elevated.

Somewhere, maybe out in the hallway, footsteps echoed on the pine floorboards. They stopped at my closed door, and I could see the outline of a shadow just below the crack. The sharp knock on the heavy door scared me, and I scrambled back up into bed, realizing that I was still dressed in the oversized leggings, but the giant sweatshirt had been replaced by a long plaid men's oxford.

"May I come in?" Edward asked hesitantly. He stood in the doorway holding a metal cup, not unlike the old time ones that miners used in movies. The sun from the hallway created a backlight for him, setting off the corona of his hair in a brilliant blaze of gold, brown, red and copper. He reached up to run his hand through the riot self-consciously. "I brought you something to drink."

"Thank you," I mumbled, suddenly incredibly aware of how awful I must look.

I may only be half dead, but I probably looked completely dead. Monty Python for the win.

Edward crossed the room slowly, stopping just short of the bed to pass me the mug. "You should drink it now – it's really hot. If you have to drink from a reserve, heat makes it taste better."

The brushed metal was warm in my hand, the way that the hood of a car gets after sitting out in the sun. I took a tentative sniff, afraid of how my body would react to what I knew lurked in the innocuous tin cup. There was no coppery smell, no aftertaste of salt water or ions. This was deeper, pungent and crisp. It was the same smell from the forest behind my grandmother's house, full of moisture and life.

"It's okay," Edward encouraged, his hands shoved firmly in the pockets of his jeans. "Just close your eyes and try - "

"Like taking medicine," I said. "Renee would always give me a piece of chocolate after I had to take medicine. She called it a chaser."

"I can't offer you chocolate, but I think you will be pleasantly surprised," he promised, not moving from his observation point. "Then I can bring you more if you'd like."

"Baby steps," I said, slowly raising the cup to my lips. Don't think about it, I told myself. Just drink.

The motion of raising the cup to my lips was surreal on so many levels. The way my body moved, fluid and seamless, every muscle working and flexing with no effort – I focused on that to avoid thinking about what I was about to do. Taking a quick breath, I placed the tin cup to my lips, chanting mentally 'don't think, don't think."

When the hot liquid hit my lips, I gasped, unprepared for the thick, sweet fluid that felt like hot tea with extra honey. It coated my lips and the tip of my tongue, soothing the burn that bubbled up from inside of me. I drank slowly, savoring the warmth it generated throughout my body, the power I could feel slowly filling me. A small part of me wanted to scream and cry that this was wrong, that I was drinking blood, but logic was no match for hunger or desire. I forced myself to go slow, to learn from the experience, but my appetite would not be controlled, and I drained the cup, running my tongue along the edge greedily to catch the last few drops that lingered just under the rim. I repeated the process, licking my lips greedily to gather the fluid that had collected at the corners of my mouth.

An audible swallow, liquid and muscle working together, brought me back to reality, reminding me that I wasn't alone.

Edward had stepped closer, his eyes wide. In the soft light I could make out details I'd never noticed before. Slight nuances in the color where his skin stretched across his cheekbones, reminiscent of the way a human would blush. His eyelashes were multi-colored, dark brown at the base, more golden at the tip. When he blinked, they dusted the hollows under his eyes, the dark circles horrible, like an old bruise or scar.

"You look horrible," I said, extending one hand to touch the angry dark mark. "You look like Emmett hit you."

He was warm to the touch, the tender skin giving easily as I skimmed my finger along the bruised crescent. Everything felt different, and I realized that it wasn't him, it was me.

"You are beautiful," Edward murmured. He stepped back, swallowing quickly, checking himself. "Would you like more? I can bring you some. After you clean up and get dressed, that is. Esme is bringing you clothes."

"Already done," she announced from the doorway, her arms loaded down with stacks of cotton and denim. "Edward, please be a dear and go warm up some more. We'll meet you downstairs in a little bit."

Esme moved efficiently, sweeping through the room in long, elegant strides. She deposited the pile on an embroidered chair, and then slipped through a well hidden door, the sound of running water drifting from the other room. Edward didn't move, his gaze still fixed on me. A subtle clearing of the throat, ladylike but firm, prompted him into action. Without a word, Edward turned and briskly walked away, his hands balled in fists at his side.

"What was that all about?" I asked as Esme re-entered the room, holding a soft white terry cloth robe.

"Come," she said, beckoning me forward, "you need to take a shower. I'll explain as you get ready."

"Ready for what?" I asked as I followed her into the steamy room. There was a half wall partition, blocking a large tiled shower for privacy. The main area was full of brushes, towels, and makeup, a regular bathroom with all the regular girly things, yet nothing about this was regular.

Esme reached out to swipe her hand across the mirror, the fogged glass clearing momentarily. "You look different now, Bella. You need to be prepared for that. Do you remember Garrett and Siobhan?"

She tapped the cleared portion of the mirror, directing my gaze to the girl that stared back at me, features distorted by the condensation that had gathered on the silvered glass. Esme was right, the changes were startling. My features, while still mine, had morphed slightly. The faint trail of freckles which had dotted my nose was gone, as was the subtle blush of pink that had graced my cheekbones. My skin was smooth, like buttermilk, white tinged with the softest yellow to keep it from appearing completely ice cold. My eyelashes, what I'd always considered my best feature, were a stark black and thick like sable, a shocking contrast to my blood red irises. Garrett's and Siobhan's had been darker, like a plum or deep Bordeaux – not this violent scarlet that stared back at me.

What have I done?

Balancing on the edge of the marble countertop, I leaned forward to study my face more closely. It was a stranger's now. The little marks I'd known so well were gone, replaced by an expanse of flawless white.

Behind me, Esme pulled a stack of towels out of a cupboard. "I grew up in Ohio," she said quietly. "My parents were very traditional Catholics who made sure their children made their first communion and were thoroughly educated in the ways of the church. They were very proud of our ancestors and their English heritage, not just the dogma, but the role that religion played in founding the new world."

Esme placed the towels on the counter, and I noticed a slight indentation slightly off center between her brows indicating deep thought. "We lived in a town named after Christopher Columbus. Everyone knows who he is, of course, but did you know that his exploration was funded by Isabella of Castile?" It was a fact every child learned in elementary school, but I didn't interrupt her story. "Queen Isabella might have done some questionable things in her time, but she helped unite her nation as well as discover a new one. Isabella, Elizabeth, they were both great leaders, women who helped to redefine the world. They derived from the same Hebrew name, Elisheva – which means – "

"Yeah, I got that part," I cut her off, not wanting to go through another spiel about my great destiny. "But what does that have to do with me?"

She reached out to comb her fingers through my hair, gently working free a knot. "You aren't a queen in the formal sense, nor do you have to be anything more than what you choose. That doesn't mean you don't have power to change the world, Bella. Lead by example and others will follow."

Esme smiled at me, her lovely face full of empathy and compassion. "You have a quiet strength, we all see that. You've shown so much courage – I have no doubt that you'll find your way. You are an individual – that alone makes you strong."

"I don't know about that-" I said. Her direct analysis felt gratuitous, ego stroking that I didn't need or want.

"Bella, people are waiting on you. Take your time," She said. "I'll be downstairs if you need anything."

She let herself out, the soft click of the door echoing through the steam filled bathroom. I tore my eyes away from the mirror and began to strip out of my clothes. I shed them like skin and stepped into the shower, ready to wash away the last remnants of Marie Geoffrey and the final days of my human life. The hot water was my proverbial baptism, carrying me forward into a new existence, one that I was quickly realizing I knew very little about.

Ω Ω Ω

After showering and dressing in jeans and a light weight purple sweater, I followed seven clear voices through the house. They were talking about me, about my actions at the beach and the way I'd 'woken up.'

"I've never seen that type of poise or possession," Jasper said, clearly awed. "And I still can't get to her. I can project things and she can feel them, but I can't do anything directly to her or project from her."

"Edward?" Carlisle asked.

I couldn't hear a response.

"She'll need to hunt, most likely somewhere close by and controlled," Carlisle continued, nonplussed. "Charlie has put out a warning that there are some bears loose in the area, which should help keep people away for a few days-"

"Why do you need to keep people away?" I asked, still a good fifteen feet down the hallway. I didn't shout, yet the occupants in the room, which I realized was the kitchen, all went silent, the lack of motion or of breathing creating an eerie silence throughout the large house. Clocks ticked, a refrigerator hummed, but there was no human motion of any type.

"For your safety and that of the people that live around here," Rosalie answered. She was as cool and efficient as the day she'd delivered the terms of the trust. "We can't presume anything about you, Bella, but we need to protect everyone involved."

They slowly filtered out of the kitchen, crossing the hallway to the large sunken room where I'd had my formal interview. Emmett winked at me, and inclined his head towards the area, an unspoken invitation to follow. As I approached, Esme passed me another warm metal cup, filled to the brim.

I drank it quickly and without thinking, my back turned so as not to provide a show. Drinking blood came entirely too easily, and the sensations derived from it were not uncomfortable. I didn't find comfort in the easy adoption of my new diet - food had always been a necessity, something that had to be done. I'd never gained pleasure out of it the way that I did this.

Carlisle waited, respectful and patient, until I finished with the tin cup. Not two seconds after I'd finished licking the final drops from my lips, he launched in with the practiced efficiency of a doctor relaying the prognosis to a patient.

"Bella, if you would come in here and sit down please, I have some things I need to talk with you about."

Esme took the cup from my hand, and nudged me forward gently, like a mother bird sending her chick out of the nest for its first flight. I moved slowly, still awed by the strange sensations that came with motion. Everything was fluid, easy, as if I was walking through water, my body light and gestures effortless. I paid special attention as I sat down in one of the large chairs - it felt as though I were floating as opposed to consciously moving.

A snicker pulled me out of my physical analysis. Emmett sat cross legged on the floor, Rosalie to his right in a large chair like mine.

"Man, it's going to be nice not being the baby anymore," he said with a grin. "You are going to be one of these types to sit and watch your fingers move, aren't you?" Emmett fluttered his fingers in front of his face, his nose wrinkling in amusement. "Ooohhh, pretty."

"Baby is subjective, Em," Jasper corrected him. A small throw pillow flew across the room, lightning fast. Jasper caught it easily, tucking it under his elbow as he leaned back in his own chair. Edward hovered behind him, his arms crossed over his chest, clearly unhappy with the way his brothers were playing. Alice was nowhere to be seen.

"Bella, we've taken some precautions that will buy some time, but you need to be aware of what has transpired over the last few days," Carlisle said, putting an end to the playful banter.

"What sort of precautions?" I asked, uncomfortable with his too precise phrasing. I wasn't sure if I wanted details yet, for fear that I would be horrified by truths that I might be better off not knowing.

"We hired someone to pretend to be you," Carlisle said. He stared directly at me, his tawny eyes full of ageless wisdom. "We packed up your suitcases and Charlie drove to Seattle, where this woman was placed on a plane to Jacksonville. She wore your clothes, and we took other evasive actions to help convince people that you had indeed fled the area."

I frowned, my brain cycling through the different ways they could have created the illusion. Packing bags and a look alike were good, but would they be enough?

"The glass," Jasper said. "Remember the wine glass you broke? Carlisle used a little of the blood from your paternity test to coat the end, create a real scent for Aro's guard to follow. He placed a few more drops in Charlie's squad car, as well as on your luggage. We created a false scent for them. They went trotting off on a wild goose chase, at least for now."

The vial of blood. I'd completely forgotten about it in the craze of the previous week. I'd never questioned that it would be used for anything other than a paternity test. Now I wondered if that had been the plan all along, to have a small stash if, for some reason, they needed to do something to protect me. Had the blood test even been necessary, or was it a charade to cover a darker reason?

"He will be back soon," Carlisle continued, his words clipped and efficient. "If he doesn't find you, he will let those that came with him loose on the town. They will hurt people, Bella."

"How do you know? How can you be sure?" I asked, horrified.

"It's how they work. Aro dictates and watches as other people wreak havoc. He will have no issue with destroying an entire town to get you. And he will, trust me on that."

"I still think we should go after him and take him down directly," Emmett said, serious for the first time that I could recall. "Between Jasper, Garrett and I, we could take the guard down no problem."

"Not with Chelsea and Renata protecting Aro," Carlisle reminded him. "Renata especially."

"Can you please stop speaking in code?" I demanded. They were talking around me, and I had no tolerance for it. "I don't understand a single thing you are saying."

"The people at your house," Edward clarified, his voice barely more than a whisper, yet clear and distinct. "The people in the doorway watching – the woman was Chelsea, the boy Alec. The woman at Aro's back was Renata. They are part of the guard, a group that Aro has assembled due to their special abilities. The men that stormed your house, Demetri and Felix, they were members of the guard too. Were it just Demetri and Felix, we could handle the situation, for their powers are not things that affect us. The others, well…"

"The others can immobilize or divide us," Jasper finished for Edward. "We have to be smart about how we approach this. Renata has a special shield, which protects Aro. No one can touch him. Chelsea is a link-maker. She connects or breaks apart groups so that the Volturi can create dissent-"

"-or accord," Edward finished for him.

"And Alec?" I asked, acutely aware that he'd been left out. "What of him?"

Jasper shot a nervous glance at Carlisle, whose face was composed in an unreadable mask.

"Alec," Carlisle began, "and his twin sister Jane, can control your mind. They create the illusions, either of absolute pain or of nothingness, a yin and yang if you will. They can immobilize a whole room with just a thought."

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Jasper looking at Edward, who shifted uncomfortably. Carlisle was unaware of this exchange, his attention focused solely on me. It had been like this in the backyard when they'd revealed themselves. This clearly meant something different to Carlisle than it did to the other Cullens.

"And…" I prompted, trying to hold his attention. There was a subtext here, something I'd not picked up on before, but I couldn't put my finger directly on it.

Carlisle took a deep breath, his eyes betraying nothing as he spoke. "And they could take out all of us, but Alec couldn't take you out. He tried at your grandmother's house."

"How do you know?"

"None of us can influence you, Bella," Edward answered softly. "I can't hear you, nor could Aro. Jasper can't read you. Alec couldn't shut you down – even though he tried. You are completely impenetrable to everyone around you. You cannot be swayed by anyone's undue influence."

"I sense a but coming…" I said, uncomfortable with Carlisle's choice of words.

"Yes, there is one," Carlisle agreed. "Alice told you about her vision of you, and how we found you. She's had three visions that tie to you and the prophecy. Three visions which Edward, with his ability to read minds, has seen. Once Aro touched Edward, he became aware of those as well."

I caught a flash of motion out of the corner of my eye. Alice stood in the hallway, hidden from everyone but me.

Remember, she mouthed. Remember what I told you. She tapped her temple, nodding encouragement. At the beach, remember.

In a flash, I could hear the surf crashing against the sand, smell the saltwater, and then, as if bubbling up from some hidden stream, there it was. The answer I was looking for.

What Aro saw, he saw through Edward's recall. Aro is informed based on Edward's perceptions of my visions.

Everything was so literal - Carlisle's insistence that the prophecy related to me, Aro's confidence that I would do exactly as he demanded – it was all too neat, too clear. What had Alice said about her visions? They were like snippets of dialogue out of context, sometimes coming true in ways she'd not anticipated. Anything out of context could not be treated literally, which is what they were intent on doing.

Aro believed I would bow to him, and ultimately rule at his side. Carlisle claimed I was the prophecy incarnate, the one who would overturn this heinous rule they bristled under. Both too literal, too absolute. Where was my chance at self determination? It's what they claimed to want, but what about me?

"I need some time alone," I said, standing abruptly. Everyone jumped to their feet, prepared to stop me from flight or to calm me down. "I need to think." I shot an imploring look at Edward, hoping he could understand, and would follow my lead.

"Can you take me out, please? I think I need more food."

I did need food, for the burn in my throat was back with a vengeance. But I also needed to talk to someone who would tell it to me straight, someone who had seen all three of Alice's visions.

Someone who was just as tired of being used and manipulated as I was.

"Please, Edward?" I held his gaze, hoping that he understood, and that he wasn't so angry at me that he wouldn't come. Like it or not, we were tied together now, and it appeared that the only way out of this would be together.